Aunt Ada could not help weeping, and exclaimed, commiseratingly, “My poor, poor boy,” as he strode up and down the room.

“The whole family, except her, seem to have the deepest contempt for coloured people; they are constantly making them a subject of bitter jests; they appear to have no more feeling or regard for them than if they were brutes—­and I,” continued he, “I, miserable, contemptible, false-hearted knave, as I am, I—­I—­yes, I join them in their heartless jests, and wonder all the while my mother does not rise from her grave and curse me as I speak!”

“Oh!  Clarence, Clarence, my dear child!” cried the terrified Aunt Ada, “you talk deliriously; you have brooded over this until it has almost made you crazy.  Come here—­sit down.”  And seizing him by the arm, she drew him on the sofa beside her, and began to bathe his hot head with the Cologne again.

“Let me walk, Aunt Ada,” said he after a few moments,—­“let me walk, I feel better whilst I am moving; I can’t bear to be quiet.”  And forthwith he commenced striding up and down the room again with nervous and hurried steps.  After a few moments he burst out again——­

“It seems as if fresh annoyances and complications beset me every day.  Em writes me that she is engaged.  I was in hopes, that, after I had married, I could persuade her to come and live with me, and so gradually break off her connection with, coloured people; but that hope is extinguished now:  she is engaged to a coloured man.”

Aunt Ada could see no remedy for this new difficulty, and could only say, “Indeed!”

“I thought something of the kind would occur when I was last at home, and spoke to her on the subject, but she evaded giving me any definite answer; I think she was afraid to tell me—­she has written, asking my consent.”

“And will you give it?” asked Aunt Ada.

“It will matter but little if I don’t; Em has a will of her own, and I have no means of coercing her; besides, I have no reasonable objection to urge:  it would be folly in me to oppose it, simply because he is a coloured man—­for, what am I myself?  The only difference is, that his identity with coloured people is no secret, and he is not ashamed of it; whilst I conceal my origin, and live in constant dread that some one may find it out.”  When Clarence had finished, he continued to walk up and down the room, looking very careworn and gloomy.

Miss Bell remained on the sofa, thoughtfully regarding him.  At last, she rose up and took his hand in hers, as she used to when he was a boy, and walking beside him, said, “The more I reflect upon it, the more necessary I regard it that you should tell this girl and her parents your real position before you marry her.  Throw away concealment, make a clean breast of it! you may not be rejected when they find her heart is so deeply interested.  If you marry her with this secret hanging over you, it will embitter your life, make you reserved, suspicious, and consequently ill-tempered, and destroy all your domestic happiness.  Let me persuade you, tell them ere it be too late.  Suppose it reached them through some other source, what would they then think of you?”